


A Study In Murder

by Kahvi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: CBS Sherlock, Gen, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having heard that CBS were planning to produce a "modern day Sherlock Holmes", my curiosity was aroused. Could this possibly be a remake of the BBC show "Sherlock?" US adaptations of British shows have an unfortunate reputation of being... a bit not good. Considering that - in my humble opinion - the BBC adaptation got everything <i>right</i>, I began to wonder what the show would look like if the CBS producers were to get absolutely everything <i>wrong</i>.</p><p>This is that show.</p><p> </p><p>DISCLAIMER: This is not a piss-take of American culture in general or American TV-shows in particular, but rather of <i>bad</i> American TV-shows. And I watch a lot of those. Some would say too many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WAR IS HELL

INT. AIRPORT – DAY

A busy airport arrivals area, just past immigration. People are coming through in files, and heading towards the baggage claim. JOHN WATSON, a tall, muscular man with a blond crew cut enters, wearing army fatigues, looking around with caution. A WOMAN approaches him from behind.

WOMAN: Hey, soldier boy. Thought you could run away from me?

JOHN WATSON: (smiles mirthlessly) Hey, uh... Linda, was it?

WOMAN: You remembered!

JOHN WATSON: How could I forget. I'll have those bruises for a while; you'd think they'd make the toilets a little taller (winks).

WOMAN: I wanted to give you this. (smiles, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket) Here. My number.

JOHN WATSON: (looks at it, squinting) California, eh?

WOMAN: 'Fraid so. Look me up if you're ever in Fresno.

JOHN WATSON: I will. (Pecks her on the cheek.) Thanks for making my flight a little more interesting, baby.

WOMAN: (giggles, then grows serious) You'll be all right, won't you? I've heard some bad things about the situation out there in Afghanistan... (She rubs his shoulder, and JOHN WATSON winces.)

JOHN WATSON: (stepping away) Yeah.

WOMAN: (turning towards him, yelling) Hey... what's it like?

JOHN WATSON: (not turning) War? (takes a cigar out of his pocket and lights it up, to the protest of nearby security guards) War is hell, baby. (Exits.)


	2. ELEMENTARY

INT. POLICE STATION – DAY

An open office landscape, featuring a number of desks, outdated computers and random potted plants. Police officers and other personell hurry to and fro, answering phones, typing away at their desks and chat animatedly. The camera zooms in on two men, on either side of one of the desks. LESTRADE, seated, is a ruddy, middle-aged black man, greying at the temples. He is slightly overweight and sweating. SHERLOCK is a thin, waifish man in an expertly tailored suit  
in sombre colors, tanned and healthy-looking, with perfect teeth and hair. SHERLOCK is standing with his hand on his hip, head tilted cocquettishly.

LESTRADE: (Leans forward and slams his hand down on the desktop.) God damn it, Sherlock! This is the last time I let you get away with a stunt like this.

SHERLOCK: (Voice is languid and effeminate) That's what you say every time, Greg.

LESTRADE: Don't call me Greg, dammit!

SHERLOCK: (Pouting.) Are you still upset that I deduced that; after all these years? Greg, darling, there was a sign on your desk. There still is. (Points to sign reading Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.)

LESTRADE: No shit, Sherlock! Now sit down and shut up.

SHERLOCK: I prefer to stand. It burns more calories.

LESTRADE mutters something; the word 'pansy' is just audible.

SHERLOCK: Aren't you going to ask me about the motorbike?

LESTRADE: Why? What's the god-damned point? You're just going to ignore me. Sherlock, that was a Ducati Diavel covered in Swarovski crystals; custom made for Paris Hilton! And you blew it up!

SHERLOCK sits down on the edge of LESTRADE's desk and tuts audibly, a wicked grin on his face.

DONOVAN enters. She is a tall, athletic white woman with blonde, short cropped hair, wearing heavy Doc Martin boots, jeans and a nondescript shirt. SHERLOCK winks at her, and DONOVAN glares, angrily.

DONOVAN: You again. I thought I told you I didn't need a man to tell me what to do!

SHERLOCK: Really? Then what's poor old Greg's job?

DONOVAN lashes out at Sherlock, but LESTRADE intervenes.

LESTRADE: Ladies; ladies! Calm down! Sally, don't get your panties in a twist.

SHERLOCK: Oh, she's not wearing panties.

DONOVAN gasps in shock. Camera zooms in on Sherlock winking.

SHERLOCK: Elementary.


	3. MIKE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (It should be noted that unlike the other characters, Mike Stamford looks EXACTLY like he does in the original.)

INT. BAR - EVENING

A dark, noisy room. Modern country music is playing just loud enough for the sound of patrons laughing and chattering to be audible over it. JOHN WATSON is seated at the bar, nursing a pint of beer. From his demeanour, it's clear that it's not his first this evening. MIKE STAMFORD, a middle aged, slightly overweight man, enters, and immediately notices JOHN.

MIKE: Johnny! (Pats him amicably on the back) Long time no see! I thought you were in Afghanistan?

JOHN: I was.

MIKE: So, what happened?

JOHN: I got shot.

MIKE: (Wincing.) Wow. Sorry to hear that, man.

JOHN: I got better.

MIKE: They got you seeing a shrink or something?

JOHN: They tried.

MIKE: (Ordering a drink for himself and JOHN WATSON) Yeah? How'd that go?

JOHN: About as well as you'd expect. I've got my own way of coping.(Raises glass to illustrate.)

MIKE: (Grins.) I'll drink to that!

MIKE and JOHN toast, and we see John crack a smile for the first time. One of the teeth in his lower jaw is missing. MIKE sets his drink down with a thoughtful look.

MIKE: Say, John... Are you planning on sticking around for a while?

JOHN: Maybe.

MIKE: Got anywhere to stay while you're here?

JOHN: (Shrugs.) I'll find something.

MIKE: Right. Yeah. (Seems evasive.)

JOHN: What? What are you trying to say?

MIKE: Well, it's just I know this guy who needs a roommate.

JOHN: (Laughing) What am I; in college? Come on, Mike.

MIKE: No, look; just hear me out. It's this really nice place, great location. In the middle of Manhattan! And you can't beat the rent. Where else are you going to find something like that?

JOHN: Who says I want something like that?

MIKE: John! Come _on_. You're on an army pension, you've got no friends or family - you KNOW Harry isn't going to take you in-

JOHN: Don't mention Harry; I've got enough of a headache here...

MIKE: You can't afford to say no to this, and you know it.

JOHN: (Sighs and downs the rest of his drink.) All right. Fine. I'll  
meet this guy.

MIKE: (Relieved.) Great! That's... that's awesome. (Drums his fingers nervously.)

JOHN: (Watching him with suspicion) Something you're not telling me, Mike?

MIKE: Oh, nothing... nothing at all...


	4. A HISTORIC MEETING

INT. MORGUE - AFTERNOON

MOLLY, a girl in her early twenties with jet black hair, heavy, dark make up and several piercings is rocking around, listening to her iPod, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. Heavy metal music is just audible. She is dressed all in black, with knee-high boots, a short skirt and a band t-shirt, with a lab coat over her outfit. JOHN WATSON enters, appearing uncomfortable.

JOHN: Erm... excuse me...

MOLLY ignores him, banging her head to the music.

JOHN: Hey!

MOLLY keeps ignoring him, and starts dancing around the slab in the middle of the room. As she turns, she suddenly notices JOHN, and tears her headphones out in embarrassment.

MOLLY: Oh... hi. Sorry!

JOHN: I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. I'm a friend of Mike Stamford's.

MOLLY: (Suddenly excited) Oh, hey! You must be John, right? Mike told me all about you, soldier boy!

MOLLY runs up to JOHN and punches his arm. JOHN very nearly tackles her, but catches himself last minute.

JOHN: Yeah. I get that a lot.

MOLLY: So you're Sherlock's new roomate, huh?

JOHN: I don't know about that; I haven't even met the guy yet!

MOLLY: (Dreamily) You're going to absolutely love him! He's so pale and dark and mysterious...

JOHN: You're making him sound like a vampire.

MOLLY: I wouldn't be surprised if he was. He once asked to borrow three pints of blood. Never brought 'em back. What does that tell you?

JOHN: So where is he? Mike said he'd be here...

MOLLY: Oh, he's in the morgue, flogging a corpse.

JOHN: He... what?

MOLLY: Yeah, isn't it AWESOME?

JOHN's reply is cut short when the door opens and SHERLOCK enters. MOLLY throws herself around his neck, and SHERLOCK kisses her on the cheek, suavely. SHERLOCK's eyes fall on JOHN.

SHERLOCK: (Almost purring) Hellooo handsome!

JOHN: (Holding out his hand) So you're Sherlock Holmes, I guess?

SHERLOCK: Oh, please, call me Sherlock.

JOHN: I just did.

SHERLOCK: And how delightfully you did it too, cherie. (To MOLLY) Molly darling; would you be a dear and get me a coffee? Black, no sugar, you know I'm watching my figure.

MOLLY: Right away, Sherlock. (Pinches his bottom as she leaves.)

SHERLOCK: Women. Can't live with them, can't have sex with them. Know what I mean?

JOHN: Not really, no.

SHERLOCK: You must be John. Mike told me all about you, except how  
ridiculously handsome you were.

JOHN: (Appearing uncomfortable) Look, maybe there's been some sort of misunderstanding here. I'm not...

SHERLOCK: Gay? Of course not. But you have a gay brother.

SHERLOCK throws JOHN a set of keyes.

SHERLOCK: The address is 221 Baker Street. Don't be late, now.

SHERLOCK exits.

JOHN: (Stunned) How did you know that? Hey - wait up!


	5. MURDER!

INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT

Concrete walls and grimy floors with puddles of water here and there. Only a few cars are parked here; in front of one of them, a tied-up WOMAN is kneeling. A SHADOWY FIGURE looms over her, holding a gun.

SHADOWY FIGURE: (Shouting) I said choose!

WOMAN: (Crying) No! No, god damn it! I've got a husband and a daughter back home.

SHADOWY FIGURE: You think I care about that? I told you to choose, and that's what you have to do.

WOMAN: Please...

SHADOWY FIGURE: Choose!

WOMAN: If you kill me, what's to become of my little Rachel? Please, have...

The SHADOWY FIGURE shoots her, then calmly retrieves the bullet.

SHADOWY FIGURE: I do hate a talker.


	6. THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS

INT. PARKING GARAGE - MORNING

LESTRADE, DONOVAN and ANDERSON, a geeky-looking guy with glasses and an unusual haircut, are standing around what is now a crime scene. DONOVAN is looking over the body, while ANDERSON fiddles with something on his smartphone.

DONOVAN: Yep... she's dead, all right.

LESTRADE: That's great. Brilliant detective work.

DONOVAN: Look; what do you want me to tell you? There's no trace of anything; ANDERSON and his guys are drawing blanks.

ANDERSON: Or rather, we're not. Drawing _anything_, I mean. When are they going to start letting us forensics guys start carrying guns,  
huh?

LESTRADE: They do. It's just you, Anderson.

DONOVAN: Hey, you don't need guns; you're a wiz with computers!

ANDERSON: (Blushing) I guess... Um, anyway, Sally's right. We can't find a single trace of evidence.

LESTRADE: Magic bullet, huh?

ANDERSON: Might as well have been. This guy is _good_.

LESTRADE: (Slowly nodding) Oh, he is. But I know someone better...


	7. 221 B

INT. APARTMENT - DAY

A spacious loft apartment with brick walls, large windows that offer a view of the city. A kitchen nook is visible off to the side. SHERLOCK is twirling around the room, showing off various features to JOHN WATSON, who remains stoic.

JOHN: So this is the place, huh?

SHERLOCK: Isn't it just fabulous?

JOHN: Yeah, it's... it's nice.

SHERLOCK: Oh, I can see you do have a way with words. Not that I disagree; it is very, very 'nice'. And with two people, the rent is actually affordable.

JOHN: Yeah, about that... how on Earth did you manage to find a place like this in downtown Manhattan?

SHERLOCK: Ah! Well, there we come to the only problem...

JOHN: (Nervously) Problem?

SHERLOCK: (Whispering) Mrs. Hudson.

The door behind them suddenly opens, and in strides MRS. HUDSON; an elderly lady with an air of authority. She is casually, but elegantly dressed; there is a theme of pearls and muted gold tones.

MRS. HUDSON: (Seeing Sherlock) Sherlock! Darling!

SHERLOCK and MRS. HUDSON embrace. SHERLOCK makes a face at JOHN behind MRS. HUDSON's back.

SHERLOCK: Martha! Darling, it's been forever.

MRS. HUDSON: Hush you; you saw me this morning.

SHERLOCK: Every moment away from you is agony!

MRS. HUDSON gives SHERLOCK a fond, if slightly disapproving look, then turns her attention to JOHN.

JOHN: Ma'am.

JOHN offers his hand to MRS. HUDSON, who takes it with some reservation, looking him up and down.

MRS. HUDSON: And who is this nice young man?

SHERLOCK: Martha, this is John Watson. He'll be sharing the apartment with me.

MRS. HUDSON: Will he, now...

JOHN: (Hurriedly) Ma'am, nothing's actually been settled as of yet...

SHERLOCK: (Interrupting him) Yes, well! John, this is Martha Hudson, a very dear old friend of mine. Well, I say old; one does not like to mention a lady's age.

MRS. HUDSON: That's quite enough, Sherlock. I know you - you can't flatter yourself out of this one. I told you I'd be happy to rent this place to you, and you alone. I don't trust young people these days. Just look at Wall Street! Disgraceful. (Turns her attention to JOHN, sharply.) You're not one of those liberals, are you?

JOHN: I don't really care much for politics, ma'am.

SHERLOCK: (Hastily) John is just back from Afghanistan. He's a veteran.

MRS. HUDSON: Really? And why is he a veteran, at his age?

JOHN: I was wounded in combat, ma'am.

MRS. HUDSON: Well. (Considers.) I'll have to take this under consideration. It's nothing against you boys - I know Sherlock like my own, and you seem like a fine upstanding young man, Mr. Watson...

JOHN: It's Dr., actually.

MRS. HUDSON: (Raising an eyebrow) You don't say. Well, as I said, it's nothing against you two. But these days - well. People talk.

JOHN: Talk?

MRS. HUDSON: And after they passed that god-forsaken law, well, you never know what you'll get! My friend Aretha, across the street, had a married couple apply by e-mail. One of them came to sign the contract, and he was all manners and charm, so she never asked. And why should she? Well! When it came time for them to move in... (Waits for JOHN  
and SHERLOCK to catch on.)

JOHN: What?

SHERLOCK: (Delicately) She means, John, that it was a male couple.

JOHN: (A little embarrassed) Oh. Right. (Does a double take.) Oh. No. Wow. OK, no. You've got it all wrong...

SHERLOCK: (Interrupting him again) Yes, thankfully neither John or I are gay.

JOHN looks at him in disbelief, while MRS. HUDSON nods, gravely.

MRS. HUDSON: I know, dear. It's just, you can't be too careful. This is a nice neighborhood, and I don't want property values going down. If even one of you were... you know... (Discreetly)

SHERLOCK: (Laughs) The very idea!

JOHN still looks confused and startled.

MRS. HUDSON: All right. Let me think about it.

JOHN: I sure appreciate that, ma'am-

SHERLOCK suddenly jumps up, picking his phone out of his pocket. It is ringing - the tone is a garish rendition of "I Will Survive".

MRS. HUDSON: I can see he's busy - I'll be 'round later.

SHERLOCK: Sherlock Holmes? What? Oh, Greg, you shouldn't have. It's not even my birthday! All right, I'll be right there. (Hangs up.) Right. I'm off!

JOHN: Off? Where?

SHERLOCK: Got work to do! Do make yourself at home, meanwhile. You do like the place, don't you?

JOHN: (Hesitant) Sure... I'm sure it'll look more cozy when...

SHERLOCK: (Simultaniously) I'm sorry about the mess - I didn't have time to clean up...

JOHN: Wait, you're living here? (Looks around.) ...How?

SHERLOCK: No time - got to run! Why don't you go shopping for a bed, meanwhile? (Lowering voice.) That is, if you'll be needing your own bed.

JOHN: Sherlock!

SHERLOCK exits, giggling


	8. A LOVER AND A FIGHTER

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

JOHN WATSON is walking along, talking animatedly into his cell phone. He keeps having to dodge people, as the lunchtime rush has just about started.

JOHN: Gawd dammit, Mike; you screwed me over! (Pause) No, this not about the gay thing. Yeah, the guy is gayer than a truckload of drag queens, and I'm not saying I'm comfortable with that, but... (Pause) No, he didn't come on to me. I keep telling you; it's not about that; it's about _everything!_ The whole package. He's _crazy_.

CUT TO: INT. MIKE STAMFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

MIKE: Yeah, all right. But was I right about the apartment? I was, wasn't I?

There is a long pause, and MIKE slowly grins.

MIKE: I'll take that as a yes. Look, he's not a bad guy. He's a little flaky, but he's very good at what he does. If you stick with this, there might even be a little something for you in it. You never know; I heard him mention he wanted an assistant.

CUT TO: EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

JOHN: An assistant? Come _on_ , Mike; you can't be serious. I don't have the brains for that sort of thing.

A beautiful woman walks by, and JOHN lingers a little as he follows her with his eyes. She smiles at him, clearly pleased with the attention.

JOHN: I'm a lover _and_ a fighter. I'm just not a thinker.

CUT TO: INT. MIKE STAMFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

MIKE: You don't have to be. That's the beauty of it. You can be as stupid as you like. He'll do all the thinking for you.


	9. A CLUE

INT. PARKING GARAGE - DAY

LESTRADE and SHERLOCK are standing by the body, while ANDERSON hovers in the background, pretending to fiddle with his computer, but clearly following their conversation.

LESTRADE: You came just in time; they were about to cart her off to the coroner.

SHERLOCK: I'm sure there'll be no need for that.

LESTRADE: Dammit, Sherlock; it's procedure! We're not amatures like you, we've got to do things by the book.

SHERLOCK: Oh, come now. The police don't consult amatures.

SHERLOCK hunkers down and looks at the body critically.

SHERLOCK: Did you notice... this?

SHERLOCK reaches down and grabs a piece of paper sticking out of the WOMAN's pocket.

LESTRADE: Oh, that. That's just tissues. _Used_ tissues; lipstick stains all over them. We had Forensics check her over, you know.

SHERLOCK: I've no doubt. Hm... (Unfolds the tissues carefully.) There's lipstick on here, all right.

LESTRADE: (Muttering) God damned genius, you are...

SHERLOCK: MAC - Viva Glam, vintage color... how very retro. My... what have we here?

In the background, ANDERSON hems and haws, trying to get their attention; both SHERLOCK and LESTRADE ignore him.

LESTRADE: Good Christ; if you got any worse, you'd be a woman. You done make up shopping?

SHERLOCK: Just about.

SHERLOCK holds the unfolded tissue up carefully, and the camera zooms in. The words RACHE can clearly be seen in vivid red, written across it.

LESTRADE: Well, I'll be...

ANDERSON: (Hurrying over) Actually, sir, I think I mentioned something about... (Notices the word.) Wow, _poison!_

LESTRADE: What?!

ANDERSON: Well, gee, you know, sir, _rache_ means 'poison' in German.

LESTRADE: Does she look German to you?

SHERLOCK: No, she doesn't. (To Anderson) Try not too read to many books, dear. It will only confuse you. You ought to get out into the fresh air more often, it'd do wonders for that pretty little face of yours.

ANDERSON blushes and looks away, while SHERLOCK turns the paper over, looking at it carefully from different angles.

SHERLOCK: But I think I have an idea what this might mean...


	10. A MASTER OF DISGUISE

EXT. CITY STREET - EVENING

The camera pans by a bar, from which loud country-music can be heard - from the signs in the window, it is evidently the same bar in which JOHN WATSON and MIKE STAMFORD were drinking earlier. The door opens, and JOHN WATSON exits, looking moody. Immediately following him is a DRUNK WOMAN, unsteady on her feet. Long, dark hair covers her face,  
which is heavily made up, and she appears tall, but is wearing stilleto heels. JOHN rolls his eyes and attempts to walk away, but the DRUNK WOMAN grabs at his arm.

DRUNK WOMAN: Hey... don't go! We were just getting to know one another!

JOHN: (Pushing her away, gently) No offense, lady, but I'd rather not get to know you any better than I do already.

DRUNK WOMAN: But aren't you lonely?

JOHN: Kid, we all get lonely.

DRUNK WOMAN: Why don't you take me home with you, then?

JOHN: I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I've got nowhere to go. (Muttering under his breath as he walks away.)

DRUNK WOMAN: You're homeless? (Trotting after him, wobbling precariously.)

JOHN: Might as well be. The best offer I got was from this crazy gay guy.

DRUNK WOMAN: (Voice suddenly an octave lower) Is that really what you think of me?

JOHN turns abruptly, gasping as the DRUNK WOMAN pulls her hair back to reveal the features of SHERLOCK.

SHERLOCK: Surprised?

JOHN: You... how... what... _how?_

SHERLOCK: I'm rather good with disguises.

JOHN: (Clearly uncomfortable) Hey, don't take that the wrong way... I mean...

SHERLOCK: (Laughing) Oh, don't be silly; I'm called far worse on a daily basis. You should hear Greg when he gets going. I take it you don't want the apartment, then?

JOHN: (Hurriedly) I didn't say that...

SHERLOCK: No, but you rather heavily implied it. It's all right, sweetheart; there are plenty more fish in the sea. (Winks, then trots off.)

JOHN: (Running after him) Hey! Wait a minute!

SHERLOCK: (Over his shoulder) You're not going to be annoyingly clingy, are you? That's such a bore.

JOHN: Wait up, god damn it!

SHERLOCK: (Sighs, then stops) All right. Keep it brief, I'm working, here.

JOHN: Working? (Dubious look on his face.) Just what exactly is it you do for a living anyway? You can afford that huge place over in Baker Street, you keep getting phone calls from guys, and now you're here, dressed up like... (Expression turns to shock.) You're not... Oh geez, Sherlock; tell me you're not!

SHERLOCK: (Laughing) John, you're absolutely _priceless_. I'm a _consultant_.

JOHN: That doesn't really sound any better.

SHERLOCK: Trust me, it is.

JOHN: What sort of consultant?

SHERLOCK: A detective consultant.

JOHN: There's no such thing!

SHERLOCK: Oh, but there is. Buy me dinner, and I'll tell you all about it.

JOHN: (Still a little flustered) Dinner?

SHERLOCK: A girl's got to eat.

With some hesitation, JOHN takes SHERLOCK's offered arm, and follows his lead down the road to a neon-lit diner.


	11. NOT A DATE

INT. DINER - EVENING

SHERLOCK and JOHN are seated in a booth in the otherwise deserted diner. The camera moves towards them, past a bored waitress playing with her hair and chewing gum. It has started to rain outside. JOHN is nursing a cup of coffee, while Sherlock, still in a dress and wig, is picking absently at a salad.

JOHN: So let me get this straight; you do consulting work for the police?

SHERLOCK: Police _detectives_.

JOHN: What's the difference?

SHERLOCK: I only work interesting cases. Small time crime just isn't worth my time.

JOHN: And they pay you for this?

SHERLOCK: (Shrugging) Sometimes. Sometimes I get paid in favors. You wouldn't believe how useful it is to have the police owe you a favor.

JOHN: Don't you mean police _detectives?_

SHERLOCK: (Throwing him a mirthless grin) Feisty, aren't we? Anyway, I make most of my money privately.

JOHN: (With suspicion) Privately?

SHERLOCK: Yes. Private consulting. Quite a lot of people have problems they need taken care of discreetly, you know. And they'll pay handsomely, quite often. Or...

JOHN: They'll owe you a favor.

SHERLOCK: Just so. Like Mrs. Hudson.

JOHN: What did you do for her; help find her pet poodle?

SHERLOCK: No, I made sure her husband got the chair in Florida.

WAITRESS: (Suddenly appearing between them) More coffee?

JOHN: (Startled) No! I mean... no. Thanks.

WAITRESS: And for your girlfriend?

JOHN: What? (Utter shock)

SHERLOCK: Nothing for me, thanks.

JOHN: She's not... He's not... (Flustered)

WAITRESS: Listen, buster, I could care less. Just pay up when you're done. (Leaves.)

JOHN: (Agitated) So just what makes you so special, huh? How come the police hire you to do their work for them? Last time I checked, the police don't hire random transvestites off the street!

SHERLOCK: (Unperturbed) This is for a case.

JOHN: Whatever! You're nothing special; you're just some flamboyant guy in a dress who likes to push people around. Well, I don't have to take it! (Gets up, throwing a few bills on the table.)

SHERLOCK: Don't be so dramatic, John.

JOHN: Nice knowing you. (Muttering under his breath as he exits) I swear, I'm gonna _kill_ Mike...

SHERLOCK sighs, adding a few more bills to the pile, checks his hair and makeup in a small mirror, then follows, unobtrusively.


	12. KIDNAPPED!

EXT. CITY STREET - EVENING

JOHN WATSON is walking along hurriedly, cursing quietly to himself, hunched over to protect himself from the rain. The camera follows him as he moves into a more crowded area, doding cars and pedestrians as he crosses a busy street. Just as he reaches the other side, a car with tinted windows stops by the kerb, and a THUG leans out, trying to pull him into it. JOHN doges him expertly, and starts running, pushing people aside more aggressively. A woman shouts as she is throw into a fruitstand, oranges spilling everywhere. JOHN runs on, the car following him. JOHN slips into a back alley, grinning to himself when he thinks he's escaped.

JOHN: (Muttering, gleefully) Bunch of amatures...

JOHN emerges on the other side, straighetning to stretch his back, but before he has time to react, a THUG suprises him and knocks him out cold.

 

INT - ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - EVENING

JOHN WATSON is tied to a chair in the middle of a huge warehouse. He shakes his head as he comes to, looking around, but there is nothing to see.

JOHN: Hello?

There is no reply.

JOHN: Hey! Come out and show yourselves, you cowards!

For a moment, there is no reply, then, slowly, a large shadow looms into view, and a FAT MAN comes into view, laughing. He is immaculately dressed in sombre colors, and comes to a halt in front of John.

JOHN: (struggling against restraints) Who the hell are you? What is this place?

FAT MAN: All in good time, my friend. Allow me to introduce myself. I am... Mycroft Holmes.

JOHN: Holmes? Now, wait just a minute...

FAT MAN: Yes. I believe you know my brother.

Camera closes on John's shocked expression.


End file.
